


Sorry Doesn't Fix Anything (Your Sorry Came Too Late)

by thinmint_writer



Series: marvel one shots [5]
Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Captain Marvel (Marvel Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: After endgame, After infinity war, Captain Marvel - Freeform, Endgame, Forgive and forget, Louisiana, Monica is sad, Other, Post Infinity War, Pre-endgame, Sad, before endgame, for never coming back, forget, forgive, keep your sorry, mentioned maria rambeau, post Endgame, sad monica, she isn't willing to forgive Carol, sorry - Freeform, sorry doesn't change anything, sorry is useless, thanos - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 12:50:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19020283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinmint_writer/pseuds/thinmint_writer
Summary: “Maria Rambeau is gone.”“And her daughter, Monica?”“You’re talking to her.”---In which Carol Danvers goes back to Lousiana a year after the snap, and meets a much older and much sadder Monica, not willing to forgive and forget. And Carol learns that sorry is a pretty useless word.





	Sorry Doesn't Fix Anything (Your Sorry Came Too Late)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so don't hate me for this. Yes it's kind of sad, and I don't even really know how much I like it, but I was inspired by an instagram post I saw and I just had to write it. If you can believe it, I didn't set out to write it so... dark, it just happened. Don't hate me. 
> 
> Also, this has no connection to the other Carol Danvers one I wrote.

“So, you headed back up there?” Natasha asked the woman in front of her, gesturing towards the ceiling. They both knew what she meant. 

Carol turned around and began walking out of the room, towards the exit of the compound. “Not yet.” 

Her black combat boots hit the floor with rhythm, and she didn’t hear the blonde ex-spy following after her. “Where are you going?” 

The half-Kree stopped, turning on her heels to look back and face the new leader of the Avengers. “I have to make a quick visit first.” 

“To whom?” 

“An old friend.” 

\--- 

A few hours later, in all of her bioluminescent glory, Carol arrived in Louisiana. Dropping to the ground, her body returned to its state of normalcy. She was wearing black leather combat boots, blue jeans, a white t-shirt, a leather jacket, and a blue baseball cap. As an old friend once said, grunge is a good look for her. 

Immediately, the woman began looking around. Though it had been years since she had visited the place, she started to recognize things quickly. Beginning to wander around, Carol found an extremely familiar rustic-style home. 

After walking up the creaky steps to the front porch, which screamed at her with every shift in the wood, she walked over to the door and knocked. When no one answered, she knocked again. When she was once again met with silence, Carol reached for the metal knob and twisted it slowly. To the hero’s surprise, it was unlocked; she pushed the door open and stepped inside. 

The first thing Carol noticed was that it had clearly not been well kept as of late. Practically every surface was covered in a fine layer of dust, and the carpet was stained with dirt. Spiderwebs marked every corner, and their occupants crawled across the walls. Furniture was haphazardly moved about, and a broken dining chair laid a few feet in front of the door. 

The hero stepped over it and made her way further into the house. A few dishes, some cracked, were piled up in the sink; some still had traces of food from god-knows-when streaked across their top. A broken mirror was on the ground, its shattered pieces pushed into a small pile against the wall. 

As Carol stooped down to examine the damage further, she caught a glimpse of herself in one of the larger shards; it wasn’t until then that she noticed the tears beginning to form in her eyes. 

Though she didn’t want to accept it, she knew what must’ve happened. Either Maria still lived there, and had just stopped caring, or no one lived there and the place had been deserted and looted. Carol didn’t know which would be harder to accept; a broken woman or a shattered life. 

After another short while of looking around the house, the blonde made her way back outside and towards the open-air garage Maria kept her plane in. By now the vehicle was old, and covered in dust like everything else. The tarp once covering it had been thrown to the ground and tossed in a messy pile. A few tools were placed recklessly around on the ground and workbenches. 

Slowly, Carol took a few steps towards the plane with an outstretched arm, gently pressing her fingers against the cool metal of its exterior. As if in solidarity, for a reason she wasn’t quite sure of, she used her other hand to reach up and pull off her cap. 

Everyone she knew was gone. 

After another few minutes of standing there, Carol wiped her face on her hand and slipped her cap back over her blonde curls. 

As she turned around, she noticed something she hadn’t before; behind her was a lake, or rather a pond. A small gazebo was built beside it, half-rotten wood forming its rough shape. And sitting on the small dock that protruded from the structure, legs dangling over the side, was a figure Carol didn’t recognize. 

She could only see the woman’s back as she began to walk closer, quiet as she could through the overgrown grass. The figure was wearing a green jacket and her shoes were sitting behind her on the gazebo. Her hair was a mess of frizzy black curls that shot out to form a sort of afro-style. This was all Carol could see. 

Still trying to be quiet, the hero took her first step onto the wooden gazebo. Under her weight, the boards let out a terrible moan, alerting the figure. The head jerked around quickly, and Carol took in the rest of her appearances. It was a dark-skinned woman, appearing to be somewhere in her thirties; she had mascara smeared lightly underneath her eyes and her lips were heavily chapped. She said nothing. 

“Excuse me?” Carol began softly. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but... do you know what happened to Maria and Monica Rambeau.” The woman didn’t reply, just kept staring at the hero in front of her. “Last time I was here, an awful while ago, this was their residence.” 

Another few moments of silence passed, and the woman turned back to face the water again. The orange of the setting sun burned as it began to sink between the treetops, and its reflection pressed down over the whole body of water, making it seem as though it were made of flames. 

Just as Carol was beginning to turn and leave, accepting she would get no answer, she received a reply. “Maria Rambeau is gone.” The voice was hoarse, but Carol twitched. Something about it was familiar. 

The blonde’s heart broke as the words left the woman’s mouth. She had been suspicious ever since she had entered the house, but having it confirmed only made it worse. 

“And her daughter, Monica?” Carol inquired. 

Though from her angle Carol could only see half of the woman’s sad face, she saw a weak smile pass over her tan lips before she looked back up at Carol and answered. “You’re talking to her.” 

Instead of breaking, the older woman’s heart stopped. This woman... this woman that was nearly the same age as her and was crying as she sat barefoot on a dock... was Monica. Lieutenant Trouble. The same two-year-old that she used to wear matching Christmas pajamas with. The same four-year-old that refused to move on after her ‘death’. The same eleven-year-old that helped her redesign her signature costume. This was Monica. 

“Monica...” she dragged softly, looking with sadness over the sorrowful woman in front of her. “How...” 

“We can’t all stay young forever, Aunt Carol,” the woman sighed, shaking her leg a little. “It’s been twenty-four years. I’ve grown. Got old. Got a family. Lost ‘em. Lived.” The words she was saying weren’t exactly sad; on the whole, if you didn’t count what had happened, she had a good life. But her voice was filled with sorrow; regret. Her voice was the same as someone who had died and lived to tell the tale. 

“What?” 

“Husband, son, and Mom all disappeared a year ago. It’s just me now.” 

Carol was more shocked than ever. Her girl... her beautiful, small little girl... had a family. And she lost it. “You had a son?” 

Monica nodded slowly. “His name was Jax. He was three.” Her eyes filled with tears again, and she bit her lip as another fat drop slipped down her face. “My husband’s name was Ryan. He owned a wood shop in town; carpenter. I was military; after everything that happened... I retired. Settled down.” 

A happy story, one that should be told at a party or on a birthday. It was the story of a life that had been well spent. But the ending... the ending was the saddest part. Carol heard the woman’s words over and over again in her mind; ‘after everything that happened’. After they lost. After she lost. After she failed her home world. 

“Everyone keeps telling me that life goes on...” Monica continued slowly, not looking back at Carol, but instead out at the water. It would have been serene, if not for their conversation. “But I don’t see how. Mom’s house is empty now, so sometimes I come here... just to let out my frustration. Doesn’t help, but it feels like it does.” 

Slowly, Carol sat down on the wood and moved next to Monica, legs falling off the dock and close to the water. “I’m sorry.” And she was. 

Monica didn’t speak for another moment, so neither did the older woman. They just sat in silence, thinking. Eventually, the younger woman broke the silence. “I used to think people like you, heroes, were invincible. They always won. You won. The Avengers won. The heroes always win. Now… I really needed you to win this time. But you didn’t.” She wiped her face on her jacket sleeve, further smudging the mascara already smeared on her cheeks. 

There was nothing Carol could say to make it better, and she knew that. She had hoped when she was reunited with Monica, it would be happier; that wasn’t possible anymore. “I’m so, so sorry Monica. We did all we could.” 

“Fury used to check up on me and Mom from time to time,” Monica continued breathily. “I knew about the pager. Every time the world was on the brink of destruction, I always used to think ‘this is it, he’s gonna call Auntie Carol and we’ll be a family again, even if it’s only for a little while.’ He never called you. Then we got word of another extraterrestrial attack in New York City, and Tony Stark was missing; I thought for sure this time you were going to come. You didn’t; not until it was too late. Not until after I lost everything.” 

“I’m sorry, Monica. I really am.” A few tears made their way out of the hero’s eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She kept repeating that phrase; ‘I’m sorry.’ She had nothing else to say. There was nothing else she felt like she could say. “I wish I had been here; I wish I had known.” 

The younger woman’s eyes teared up again as she turned her neck to face Carol. The look on her face wasn’t one of self-pity or loathing, just one of sadness. Confusion. “Why didn’t you come, then? It’s been a year... why didn’t you come when I needed family?” The words cut through Carol like knives. “When I needed anyone to tell me that it was okay. Why are you here now?” She drew out the last word; ‘now.’ Why had the hero come, after all that time? 

“I don’t know.” Her voice faltered and her face sunk into one of true sadness. She hadn’t expected her reunion with Monica to go this way. She hadn’t expected the reality check that forced her to search her soul, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for her absence. There wasn’t one. “I’ve been trying to help put the world back together; I’m trying to fix this.” 

“Family comes first,” Monica whispered, but Carol heard. “You are the only family I have left, and I’ve been waiting all this time. I’ve been waiting so long for you to finally remember about us, and wonder what happened to us. I’ve been waiting twenty-four years.” The woman’s voice rose a bit as she spoke. 

“I’m sorry,” Carol said again, because in the moment it was all she could think to say. 

The dark-skinned woman beside her shook her head slightly. “I know you are.” Her voice was suddenly quiet again. “But sorry won’t bring my family back. Sorry doesn’t do anything.” Monica paused with a deep breath. “If you wanted to say sorry, you should’ve come a year ago.” 

Not knowing what to say, Carol just sits there with her, legs pressed against the boards of the dock and back up straight. She felt the wind move gently around them, moving their hair gently and blowing the uncut grass in the yard. 

More than anything in those moments, Carol wished she had something more to offer than just sorry. But that really was all she had, and she was ashamed. 

Because sorry didn’t change the fact that it had taken her so long to come visit. Sorry doesn’t change the fact that she hadn’t been there for twenty-four years. Sorry doesn’t change their defeat. 

On the whole, sorry was an utterly useless word. It doesn’t fix the past, or what was broken. It won’t change what happens in the future. So what was its purpose? Why did friendships and families hang in the balance of this one word, filled with empty meaning? Why did it matter so much to the homo sapien species, when it doesn’t truly make anything better? 

Sorry does not restore trust. Sorry does not fix a broken object. Sorry does not undo a resented deed. Sorry does not reflect a persons true character. 

Sorry has been overused and abused. Sorry is an empty word that when you look at it, really has no true meaning. Whatever meaning it did have when it was created had been stripped by time and carelessly spoken apologies. It was no longer a sacred and respected word. It no longer meant 'sorry'. 

Sitting there on the dock, with the water inches away from her feet and the golden sun shining across her face, Carol Danvers had one of the biggest and most heartbreaking realizations of her life. 

Monica was right. 

Sorry really doesn’t change anything at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment your thoughts. I like to hear from you guys.


End file.
